


Reaped Wrong

by dylanofuckme



Series: Teen Wolf Hunger Games [1]
Category: Hunger Games (2012), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hunger games reaping?, Perf!Derek, always a girl!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 11:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dylanofuckme/pseuds/dylanofuckme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is always jinxing herself. But something good comes out of it this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reaped Wrong

“Stiles,” John whispers from above his sleeping daughter, using one of her nicknames to wake her. “C’mon, kid, it’s time for The Reaping.” He pulls the curtains apart, bathing the room in bright sunlight, his hair shining brightly against the deep blue walls.

“No,” the girl mumbles in response, pulling the blankets above her head to get away from the morning light, tangling her hands in her long brown hair. A rustling sounds from beside the bed as her father shuffles about, trying to clean up some of her mess from the long night of research she had trying to figure out more about the other districts the night before.

“Stiles, I’m serious, get up,” John tries again, pulling the blankets away to the foot of the worn bed. He sighs heavily as his daughter groans loudly before turning over, shutting out the rest of the world with a pillow over her ears.

“It’s stupid, dad. Everyone’s getting picked just to be replaced by the careers,” Genim sighs loudly, giving up on ignoring her father so she can get up and get dressed but she still doesn’t move. Bright, whiskey brown eyes shine up at him as she flails onto her back, freckles dotting her face like a connect-the-dots. Her eyes are an exact replica of his sparkling bright two. John shrugs his shoulders without real meaning behind it and heads out the door and to his own room, tired already from the events of the day. “I’m telling you, dad, I just wish someone who got picked would actually go!”

“Be careful what you wish for, Genny,” her dad scolded, the childhood nickname spilling easily from his mouth, with a fondness in his voice, knowing his daughter would grow up to be a great Peacekeeper one day. Loud bursts of laughter came from Genim’s room, filling the house with a happiness it rarely had since John’s wife died three years earlier. “Seriously, Genny, don’t make statements like that or else you’ll be the one getting picked.”

“Funny, dad, because I’d just be replaced by Sherry What’s-her-face, the career, in five seconds flat,” Genim giggles out before tripping over her pants while trying to pull them on. Laughter floats into her room from her father’s down the hall. “Stop laughing at me, you know I got my balance from mom,” Genim reprimands her father, the laughter only getting louder with the realization of how true the statement is. 

“Come on, kid,” John says while walking by his daughter’s room to get her to follow him down the rickety, old stairs before bounding out of the blue front door in a silent race. “’M getting too old for this, Stiles,” he pants as the come to a stop in front of Scott’s house, his daughter’s best friend.

“That’s what you said last time, dad!” Genim squeals out when she finally catches her breath. A door opening and closing catches their attention. “Hey Scott,” Genim waves obnoxiously. “Hey Allison and momma McCall,” she continues her waving until they’re all five feet in front of her. 

“Hello, Stiles,” Melissa acknowledges her before getting into a private conversation with John, Scott and Allison both nod in greeting before they all set off. Small whispers between the three teenagers keep the adults peeking back every so often.

The walk to the town square isn’t long but it is beautiful. Bright metallic colors line the streets, as they usually do, making even small bursts of the Sun shine back into their eyes. Tall trees shade most of the Sun from hitting the five walking down the sidewalk to the square, their long trunks tapering off with metallic green and yellow leaves dangling from the branches. Picket fences line most of the house, painted for The Reaping with bright pinks, oranges, and yellows, a tradition started when the fall season seemed to make The Reaping even scarier than it already was. No amount of color could stop the feeling of impending doom falling upon everyone’s shoulders though.

Upon reaching the town square they have to separate into their respective groups. Scott, Genim, and Allison head off to the roped off area to wait for the names to be called, Melissa and John go towards the awaiting crowd of adults. Though the careers will take the place of anyone that gets picked the wait for names to be called is still terrifying. Just knowing that they could have been the one to be picked scares the pants off of all the teenagers in the crowd.  
Genim can’t see either of this year’s careers (the first careers District Three has) from her standing point, doesn’t even know who they actually are, she realizes as she settles back onto the heels of her feet next to Scott. 

“Who are they?” She asks when Scott finally turns away from his long-time girlfriend. Scott looks perplexed for a long time before Genim sighs and rubs her forehead in irritation. “The careers, ninny, who are they?” 

Understanding dawns upon Scott’s face as he starts to peer around. “Sheila Ransil and Derek Hale,” he says, to which Genim gives a blank look. “M’gosh, Stiles, Derek Hale. You know… His family and his house blew up like three years ago?” Immediately, it clicked; the explosion that had led to a small rebellion that her father had had to control. Genim remembers that night specifically because she’d been so worried that she’d lose her father right along-side her mother.

“Yeah, Derek Hale, I remember him. I used to have the biggest crush on that guy, still do actually. I should probably rein it in now that he most likely won’t be coming back,” she says, trying to control the hurt, keep it from leaking into her voice. ‘Crush’ hardly described what she used to have for Derek Hale, it now came roaring back with a vengeance as the images and memories she had of him came to the forefront of her mind.

“That would be a good idea,” Scott sassed back, throwing a hip out and snapping his fingers to try and cheer up his best friend. Genim laughed loudly, gaining attention from a few of the people surrounding them.

Ten minutes, full of jokes and laughter, later the announcer came out on stage, followed by the four surviving victors that District Three has. His words were a buzz in Genim’s ears as she waited for the names to be announced.

Finally, the announcer was pulling a name from the big glass ball, the girls’. “Gen- What? I thought this was the girls’ ball?” He broke off, whirling around to get an explanation. Someone stepped forward to help him out and before long he was back at the microphone. “Sorry, um, Genim Stilinski?” The announcer calls, unsure of his actions and of how to present himself in his awkward state.

The name rings loud and clear in Genim’s ears after the faint buzz that the announcer’s voice used to be. A pushing on her shoulder brings her into motion, blind fear making her walk straight up the stairs and to the tributes’ area. She’s not sure how long she stands there but sometime later another name is called and a lanky boy by the name of Sear stumbles onto the stage as well, only to be immediately replaced by a sweating, breathless Derek Hale.

Genim looks away, seeing her father staring at her with sad eyes. She gives him a timid smile to reassure him that everything will be fine.

“Stiles?” Derek mumbles when he’s standing next to the dazed girl. “What are you doing up here?” He angrily grabs her arms, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “Stilinski, answer me!” 

The hard shake that follows his angry words is what pulls Genim out of her stupor. “Where’s Sheila?” Is all she manages to mumble, her thoughts of nothing but the fact that she just got reaped and of how handsome Derek looks standing less than a foot from her.

“Where’s Sheila? Stiles, she tried to run last night, they caught her and hanged her before word even got out that she left,” Derek explains, rubbing his hands up and down her arms as she shivers from the realization that she’ll be competing at the 96th Annual Hunger Games.

“Oh,” is the only thing that seems to want to come out of her mouth at that moment. Derek seems to know just how she feels as he pulls her in for a hug, smothering her with his broad, defined chest. “’M okay, ‘m fine,” she mumbles a few times before Derek finally lets her go, holding her at arm’s length before pulling her back in, this time face to face as he molds their lips together.

Seconds ooze into minutes as Genim goes lightheaded, from oxygen deprivation or just the fact that she’s kissing Derek Freaking Hale, she’s not sure. Derek pulls back with a heavy sigh that settles low in her heart, already making a small crevice for her new favorite sound.

“I love you,” Derek mumbles against Genim’s nose as he pushes he long hhair behind her ears, his shining hazel eyes peering into her own whiskey brown ones. Her only response is a loud whine as she realizes how bad the situation really is, refusing to pull back and instead snuggling closer to the man she’s been pining after since second grade.

“I love you too,” tumbles out of her mouth before she even has to think about it.

“It’s not too late?” the loud rumble comes from deep in his chest.

“Never too late for you,” is the only response he gets.

“We’ll get through this,” he promises her as he moves his lips up to press them to her forehead in emphasis. “I’ll do whatever I can to get you home safely.”

“Not without you,” Genim answers right back, resolute in her decision to protect this man with her life.

**Author's Note:**

> Dmn boi.


End file.
